Spot Gets His Name
by Mighty Lion
Summary: I wrote this as a challenge, and decided to post it.


**A/N: I wrote this for a tumblr challenge, and thought about posting it. So here it is, how Spot got his nickname.**

**Spot**

It was the summer of 1890 when 8 year old Evan Conlon ran away from his home. His reasons were far different from those of his fellow newsies. He didn't run because of abusive parents, drunk fathers, or because he was kicked out. Evan ran away, and stayed away, because he wanted to. He felt like he was supposed to be free from home and family, from school and learning. 'I'm not doing any good in school anyways, so what's the point of being there? My family ignores me cos they hate me.' This was Evan's reasoning to himself as he ran down the dark streets, away from where all the Irish immigrants were clustered together.

Evan ran until he grew too tired to stand on his two feet, which took a while for him-he'd always been a fast runner, often winning foot races between classmates. But he did eventually grow tired and started looking for a safe place to stay the night. After wandering around near the heart of Brooklyn, Evan spotted the famous Brooklyn Bridge, and started going in its direction.

After reaching the docks with what he considered the best view (the bridge to the left of him, the river directly in front of him, and the city behind him), Evan walked carefully on the wood, trying not to making any noise. He was tired and sore, but looked for a hiding place so he could sleep without worry of being found. Soon Evan found a small tower-like stack of crates and boxes. Evan climbed up the ladder and fell asleep.

"Hey kid! What do you think you're doing huh?" the angry voice of a teenage male woke Evan from his deep sleep. He grumbled in annoyance at the sunlight and sat up, mumbling to the boy, "I was sleeping, what'd it look like I was doing?" The older boy growled, "This here's my spot, got it? Now go find your own perch and beat it."

Evan glared at him and said with a defiant voice, "I don't see your name on it."

The boy opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and stared at Evan, taking in his dirty blonde hair and gray/blue eyes before saying, "You know what kid, I'm gonna have some mercy on ya and help you out, ok?"

"Umm.. Ok? How you gonna help me?" Evan asked suspiciously.

"You ever hear of newsies?"

Evan looked up at the boy, he had brown eyes and black hair,with a look of constant annoyance on his face. "Yeah, they're the kids that sell the newspapers."

"Right, so how'd you like to be one huh?" The teen asked with a small smile.

"You mean I'd get to sell the newspapers?"

The dark-haired boy nodded his head and said, "Sure thing kid, by the way, my name's Seeker. I'm the leader of Brooklyn's newsies, and I'll be showing you the ropes."

A few months later, Seeker had shown Evan everything there was to know about being a newsie in Brooklyn. Evan had gotten into a few fights by the time he had been selling for 4 months. He was always fighting for the spot at the top of the crates, it had the best view by far. The rules were that you were to get your newsie name after you'd been one for a year. When Evan had been selling for a year exactly (he had memorized the day, since it would be the only memory he would have of his childhood as he got older), Seeker called Evan over to where he and the other higher-up newsies were keeping watch over the younger ones.

"Heya kid, you know what today is?" Seeker asked with pride apparent in his voice.

"I get my newsie name today." Evan said, with a small smile on his face

The group of older boys grinned, they hadn't seen a kid like Evan before, fighting for the things he got and defending them well, even the older boys had respect for their young 9 year old prodigy.

Seeker grinned and said, "That's right Evan. And I've got the perfect name for ya."

He took a breath, and gave Evan his famous name. "Spot."

Evan raised a brow, looking more intimidating than any kid should and said, "Spot? Why that name?"

One of the guys in the group, Archer, said, "You've always been good at aim, like uhh..what's the word.. You're always spot-on with your slingshot. Yeah, that's it."

Another teen, Rage added, "You got that little mark on your arm, like a spot."

The boys chuckled at the reasoning, but Seeker hushed them and told Evan, "It's cos you're always fighting over that damn spot overlooking the bridge and river. Shoot kid, you even kicked me offa it."

Evan smiled a bit, thinking about his new name. "So now you'll be known as Spot Conlon."

**Review if you want?**


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